Tuesday, January 04, 2005
My 2005 New Year's Message
2005 has burst forth from its piney cocoon, and I am sending New Year's Greetings to all y'all, my sweet-&-sourest bacon bits.
Today a new year has fallen upon us like Courtney Love's microphone onto a drunken alternabean. Today the sun also rises, smiling and eager, over a nation of new Pamela Anderson and Brooke Burke calendars, as yet unstained by the coming months, with a giggle and a girly little 'hi Brad!' wave, and a message of hope. A message which is a symbol, which is an allegory, which is a parable, a tale and an harangue, a tirade and a chat, a hug and a tinky-winky. Close your eyes (wait! keep them open) and feel the sun's warmth on your face, and feel its communique of glowth [sic] to you:
The past is dead, and today Mother Earth reborns you from her soylent boosy. (Sshhh! Listen to the soothing squishes as you emerge from the womb.) Today is the first day of the rest of a hundred-thousand half-eaten star crunches. This year belongs to you alone, and this year all your dreams will materialize magically, just as they do for the Keebler elves: You will melt away 20 pounds effortlessly, like so much clear and fragrant hand sanitizer. You will no longer sit around in a dirty girdle holding one hand over a candle flame and playing with an old Barbie with the other. You will meet your One True Love in Payless Shoe Store, and have the most grand and beautiful wedding (pronounced weh-wing) the world has ever seen, only to discover later that you have suprisingly married into royalty, and will henceforth be known as the Princesse of Pigglywiggleden, genderregardless. You will win that assistant manager position at Burger King with the 50% discount it carries (don't you love their new Omerosa commercials? But where's the Omerosalette Croissanwich?!?), and achieve your dream of installing a solid-gold bidet in your trailer's bathroom.
All those dreams and more will be delivered to you by the New Year Stork today. Feel the sun's ungloved hand caressing your face, breathe in the fragrant orange blossomness of this nascent era, and bite from the cotton candy possibility that stretches before you for eleventeenjillion miles, like Star Jones' stomach from the eyes of a crablouse. And bask in the scented love that I send to you with my invisible pink carrier pigeon.
In this new year I wish you warm days, cool nights, pretty fingernails, reliable watches, effective moisturizers, herbal calmatives, vigorous thyroids, calorie-free pancakes, refreshing sparkling waters, allergy-free orchards, 47,002 smiles, 320 phone numbers, 120 heaving bosoms, 83,425 relaxing sighs of happiness, and, of course, 900bajillion Beep!s.
And that's my New Year's Message for 2005. Keep your feet on the ground, and keep reaching for Oprah's beeps.